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Tuesday, June 11, 2013

[This is where
things take a turn. This is where things get gruesome and ugly. This is where
all innocence is disturbingly removed from all possible thoughts. This is the horrifically
detailed description of what happened during the six months that Rachel was in
the hospital, in a drug-induced coma. This is the real story.]

You know, six months can seem
like a very long time for those who are on the outside world, waiting for their
loved one of friend or sister or brother to come back to reality, but just
imagine the turmoil of the person in the coma. Have you ever been in a coma
before? Have you ever been in a coma from a demon’s drug? Imagine this:

What was six months
for everyone else in reality was about 7 years for me. That was the most
disturbing 7 years of my petty life. 7 very long, demonic, enlightening years.
And to this day I still regret nothing.

The last few things
I remember before slipping into my slumber was being in the emergency room of
the hospital, getting my stomach pumped to purge my system from poisons
(delicious, trauma-causing poisons), and the screaming voices of my friends and
family.

Oh the screams.
They sounded like bloody murder. It sounded like screams from Hell, or the
recreation of the end of the world! I could hear my mother cry out my name over
and over again. Jake had almost an angry growl with his. His emotions flooded
the entire hospital via vocal chords with anger, regret, sorrow, turmoil, and a
slight hint of hatred.

After that, I
remember lying in the bed and listening to my heartbeat. Ba-bum……..ba-bum……..ba-bum…………….ba-…………ba-bum…….

Childhood thoughts
filled my head, my mind racing with memories- my life flashing before me. I
remember the times my sister and I used to play school when we were kids, she
was always the teacher and I was the student. Ha, she got mad at me sometimes
because I didn’t want to play the teacher. I can’t remember why, but it wasn’t
my thing I guess.

Another memory
flashed before my eyes.

My sister and I were sitting on our bed in our very
small room. We were about 5 or 6 years
old. We were watching a TV show that I don’t think we were supposed to be
watching. Some kind of soap opera that they only showed at night when all the
kids are supposed to be asleep. Anyway, a scene came on where two people were
kissing.. French kissing. Well, my sister got the bright idea that we should
try that on each other.

And for whatever reason, maybe both of us being so
young and not knowing any better, we did it. It felt weird. Her breath upon my
lips, her lips so wet and soft. Our tongues felt slimy, caressing each other’s with
naivety. It only lasted for about 5 or 7 seconds, but I will never forget that
day. At that moment, our mother walked in on us. We both stopped and stared at
her in embarrassment and horror. What had we just done?....

The next memory was
a horrible one.

As a child I did a
lot of day dreaming. A lot of times I would imagine myself lying in a bed, much
like I am now. I never knew where I was but in this room. I would look around
the room and notice something strange. It was a white room with really bright
lights, no furniture, no windows, no wall decorations, only a door.

And something else.

Someone else.

As I looked to my
left I would see a man sitting beside me in a chair. I would never know this
man, and I could hardly ever see his face for the shadow of his top hat. He was
always wearing a black and red three piece suit, with a red tie and black
shoes. He had a long, black cane with a bird’s skull on the top. He had devil
horns on both sides of his head. He wore a gold chain and several rings on both
hands. I could see he had a tattoo across his knuckles. It read GHOST MAN. He
just stared at me with this devilish grin on his face. All of his razor sharp
teeth glistened with hunger and delight. His eyes glowing white, piercing my
soul. He just stared intently. I always thought he was going to eat me.

I could feel my heart
race faster and faster- weaker and weaker… until I blacked out.